


You've Got This Spell on Me

by freethedoncastertwo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism, and profanity because it's Louis, warning for minor drug references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freethedoncastertwo/pseuds/freethedoncastertwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis accidentally freezes Harry’s apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got This Spell on Me

Louis has had some bad days in his life. Like, failing his A-levels bad. Like being crash-tackled by a hulk man and jeered at by forty-five thousand people bad. But it’s eleven in the morning and he thinks that this one might already take the frosting-covered cake.

It’s kind of Harry’s fault, in the sense that it’s actually Louis’ fault and not Harry’s fault at all.

See, at eleven a.m. in a summer-hazy Los Angeles, Louis has frozen Harry’s apartment.

Harry’s _favourite_ apartment, to be precise. His LA apartment, literally _The LA Apartment_ that Harry goes on about All the Time. It has a foosball table. It has a mural on one wall that was hand-painted lovingly by Zayn when Harry first bought the place. For fuck’s fucking sake, it has _fairy lights_. It has a clock with a picture of a dog. It has a scrapbook filled with photos of Harry’s middle-aged bakery friends, the ones who taught him ballroom dancing in their breaks. And Louis has frozen it solid. Harry will never look at him in the same way again.

Louis wasn’t even going to be here, except that Harry had some Important Writing Sessions with Prestigious LA People during their time off from touring and invited Louis to stay with him. It was a show of great comradery and benevolence, which Louis is sure he doesn’t really deserve. And now Louis is perched, hyperventilating, on the half-frozen sofa, after his hands have apparently decided to pull a Queen Elsa.

Fuck his actual life.

He wonders if he should call the fire department, or if that would be too ironic. He also wonders how the fuck this even happened. Harry’s out working, and he was watching a DVD from Harry’s Disney collection to pass the time. He got up and went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He knocked over the kettle, and _boom_. Instead of just burning himself like a normal person, he reached out an instinctive hand and froze everything instead.

Massive slabs of ice are now slowly sliding along the ice-covered floor, occasionally crashing into things which are also encased in ice. Oh, fuck. Does Harry have a pet? Louis can’t remember. “Um, Fido?” he calls out shakily, hoping and also not-hoping to stumble upon a name that a possible pet of Harry’s might have. “Harriet? Mr. Schnubblewinkles? Kittyequalitykins?”

There is no response, and Louis really hopes that means that nothing’s dead.

Louis needs to do something about this ice, though.

He runs-slash-slides to the window and throws it open. Maybe California’s natural heat will help him get started on melting this shit. He grabs his phone from his arse-pocket and finds it thankfully unfrozen. He punches in Liam’s number. Lovely, reliable Liam. Liam will know what to do.

After three rings a cheery voice answers. “Hello!”

“Liam!” Louis squawks, not even trying to mask his panic. “Liam, I really need your help. I’m having a problem.”

He can practically _feel_ Liam’s concerned frown through the phone. Like synaesthesia or summat. “Are you okay? What sort of a problem?”

“Um...” Louis looks helplessly at the room around him. “An ice problem.”

There’s a very, very heavy pause. Louis winces. He probably could have worded that a bit better. “Louis,” Liam begins in that serious tone of voice; the one that always makes Louis feel with conviction that something’s terribly wrong. His heart sinks. “I’m glad you called me. Methamphetamines are a very dangerous problem, but we’re going to get you the help you need –”

“Agh!” Louis cries out in frustration.

“Louis?!” Liam’s voice is panicked now. “What are you –?”

Louis hangs up. Zayn is probably sleeping or having alone time on a mountain or something, so he tries Niall’s number next.

Niall picks up after the first ring. “Liam says you have a drug problem.”

 _The fuck?_ Louis thinks. Niall is literally Gretchen Wieners. He knows all rumours at all times. “No!” he exclaims. “How did you even – look, never mind. Ni, I’m in an emergency situation here. I have ice powers. I’ve frozen Harry’s apartment.” His voice trembles a bit.

Niall starts laughing and doesn’t stop. “That’s a good one!” he guffaws. Louis wants to cry. “Seriously, Lou, you should tell that to Harry. He’ll love it!”

Life is unfair. “You’re no help and I hate you and I’m calling my mum,” he snaps, which only makes Niall laugh harder. Louis hangs up on him too.

Louis glances at the time on his phone and wishes he was frozen himself. Harry’s going to be home in an hour. An hour. Things have started to melt a little bit, but not nearly enough that Louis can pretend he hasn’t noticed.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Louis goes into melting-mode-extreme. He dons gloves, picks up the toaster, pops it on and holds it near other objects. He blows on things until he physically has to lie down from the breathlessness. He runs into walls and doors and stereo sets, wondering if he can crack the ice with brute force. He stares at Harry’s _Frozen_ DVD case, stares deep into Elsa’s illustrated eyes and tries to connect with her on an emotional level. _How do you fix it?_ he asks her telepathically. _How do you fix things when you’ve really fucked them up?_

 _Love_ , the little queen seems to reply. _I melted the ice with love._

Louis tries. He really, truly tries. He slumps down to press his face against the ice-covered floor and tries with all his might to melt the ice with love, but it doesn’t work a single bit.

Finally, once his list of possible solutions has been well and truly exhausted, he takes out his phone again and calls his mum.

“Hi love,” she answers in her tinkling fairy-godmother voice. Louis wishes he could hug her right now.

“Hi mum,” he says sheepishly.

She can tell instantly that something’s up. “What’s wrong?”

Louis tries to find the words to explain. “I’ve done something? Like, not a normal something. I – um. I seem to have frozen Harry’s apartment. I can’t melt it. I don’t know what to do.”

She listens and is quiet afterwards. “Sweetie,” she says at last, “I think you do know what to do. You need to tell Harry about it. Just be honest. He’ll understand.”

“But –”

“No buts. You can work out a solution together. It’ll be okay.”

Louis sniffles. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He doesn’t hang up until his mum does, and after that he sits still and thinks about it. Then he stands up, grabs his bag and leaves.

He can’t do it. He can’t see the look of disappointment that will inevitably be on Harry’s face when Louis tells him what he’s done. So he'll make a run for it. He wonders if there’d a flight home to England scheduled soon.

He’s running at full speed down the building’s stairs, heart in his throat and shivering like mad, when he crashes into Harry.

Harry’s arms raise instinctively to catch him. Louis jumps back, careening into the railing and smashing his hip on a corner. “Fuck,” he hisses. He looks up at Harry, who is beaming like this is all terribly funny. “You’re home early,” he says weakly. He’s going to throw up.

“Yeah,” Harry nods eagerly. “I wanted to get started on our movie marathon...” His gaze drifts to the bag on Louis’ shoulder and his smile disappears. Confusion and hurt flash through his eyes. “Where’re you... Lou, what are you doing?”

Louis clears his throat. “Um, I was just... I just...”

Louis is going to lie. He really is going to lie, run away from this and not look back. But then he thinks of how he’d be leaving Harry alone in a cold apartment that he ran away from, with nothing but Harry’s trodden-on goodwill and Louis’ gigantic, obvious lie. And it’s too sad and too ironic. Too devastatingly familiar. He can’t let that happen. He won’t.

“I – I did something bad,” he confesses. He hates the way his voice wobbles. “I froze your apartment. Accidentally. With magic or something. And then I panicked and I was going to run away because I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me or think that I’m colossally stupid, but you probably already think that anyway and I’m sorry.” Louis scrubs the mortifying tears off his face.

Harry is watching Louis studiously. He hums. “So... let me get this straight. You froze my apartment. With magic.”

Louis nods, wishing that Harry would say more and stop making him want to be sick so much.

Then Harry erupts into laughter. “Louis, that’s _great_. I almost – like. With the tears and everything – are you using eye-drops? You’re hilarious. That was a good one. You should tell that to Niall, he’d _love_ it.”

Louis barely has time to think _what?_ before Harry is dragging him back to the apartment. Harry chortles all the way. Louis tries to explain that he’s telling Harry the _truth_ , but a) Harry will find out soon enough and b) Louis isn’t sure if Harry even expects the truth from him anymore. So he miserably commits to his fate.

They reach the landing and Harry unlocks the door. _If you’re going to vomit, vomit now_ Louis’ brain tells his body frantically. Then they step inside and Louis’ jaw drops open.

There’s no ice.

Harry ambles over to flop comfortably on the sofa. There’s no ice. Louis drops to his hands and knees to peek under the sofa and behind the stereo system. There’s not a trace of it anywhere.

Harry frowns at him. “Um, Louis? Are you okay?”

Louis sighs and sits slowly next to him. “I’m not sure.” He shakes his head. “There really was a lot of ice.”

Harry snorts. “Maybe you melted it with the power of your love for me.”

Louis blinks at him forlornly. Harry pauses, as if he’s unsure whether he’s gone too far. Louis hates that look of uncertainty on him. He hates how many times he's been the cause of it. So he takes a breath, leans over and kisses it away.

Louis pulls back quickly, biting his lip. Harry stares at him in shock. “Louis?”

Louis clears his throat awkwardly. “Um,” he begins. “My mum told me today that I should be honest. At the time I thought she was talking about something else, but now I’m not sure.”

Harry smirks. Louis huffs. “So...” Harry says, still slightly tentative under the smugness, “What exactly would you like to be honest with me about?”

 _A lot of things,_ Louis wants to say. There is a horrible blush radiating from his cheeks that could probably melt an iceberg. “Just – I like you a lot. Thank you for inviting me here. You didn’t have to.” _And I’m sorry_ , Louis thinks but doesn’t add. He supposes that Harry probably knows.

Harry rolls his eyes, and the sarcasm is so surprising on him that Louis pokes out his tongue. Harry chuckles and pulls him closer. “I wanted to,” he says like it’s obvious, which it is. His lips brush Louis’ ear, as if his next words are especially secret.  “I like you a lot, too.”

Louis smiles and snuggles into Harry’s chest. It’s broad and warm. Louis shivers in a good kind of way, barely believing his luck. He has had some utterly dreadful days in his life. But as far as dreadful days go, this one’s really not that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :)  
> If you like you can find me at tipsy-louis.tumblr.com.


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